The Shirt
by Blynneda
Summary: It's been done, but here's my take on what happens with Malcolm's shirt in "Shockwave II"


_The obligatory Author's Notes:  This isn't a romance, per se, although it contains certain elements that might lead to that.  However, I know how this will "end" and it won't be happily ever after, wedding bells and baby showers.  Just something for you to keep in mind.  What I like about the Malcolm-Hoshi relationship is that it's complex, and I'd like to reflect that here.  I don't think it's really in their characters for them to fall in love.  So, Chapter 1 is more "fun," while 2 is where it get dirty, so to speak.  No, not _that_ way.  Jeez, it's rated PG._

In this chapter, the shirt gets perhaps two mentions, but it will come into play later.  Chapter two, that is.

THE SHIRT

Chapter 1:  Bloody Pulp

            Hoshi had remained in the storage closet with the two unconscious Suliban for a much longer time than she wanted.  Neither of them had woken up, but the possibility of them doing so kept her quavering phase pistol trained on their backs.

            After an eternity, Commander Tucker had slipped in, completely startling her.  She barely held back a full-fledged scream when he held up his hands.  "Relax, Hoshi.  It's just me."

            "Oh, God," she whispered.  She felt like she was starting to crack.

            "Listen, I can handle this situation here.  Dr. Phlox needs you to give him a hand—they're in Malcolm's quarters."  Tucker gently eased the phase pistol out her hands, which were slick with sweat.

            Hoshi froze.  "Is he all right?"

            Tucker hesitated.  "I haven't seen him," he finally admitted.

            "I'll be right there," Hoshi stepped toward the door.  "Neither of them woke up."  Tucker nodded, and she left.  [_A/N for continuity freaks:  Please note that Trip stays here until security of some kind arrives, then goes to prepare for the warp core breach._]

            Hoshi didn't take long to reach Malcolm's quarters, concerned about an encounter with a loose Suliban.  She pressed his door button for the second time in as many hours and entered as smoothly as if it had been her own quarters.

            She immediately turned to the wall and covered her face with her hands.  "Oh, my God!" she murmured in an unsteady whimper.

            Malcolm was slumped painfully in a chair facing the door.  His face was covered with gashes and bruises, masked with partially congealed blood.  He gave her a weak grin, his voice distorted by a swollen lip.  "I look that good, do I?"

            Dr. Phlox was busily preparing his treatments just to Malcolm's right:  an auto-suture, gauze, and a hypospray for the pain.

            Hoshi waited a minute to compose herself, then turned back.  She still couldn't look Malcolm in the face.  "Shouldn't he be in Sickbay?"

            Dr. Phlox looked up at her.  "Why, certainly.  However, in his condition, and considering the threat of Suliban still on board, I decided to make a…quarters call," he chuckled at his attempt at human idiom.

            Hoshi smiled in spite of herself.  "House call," she corrected.  She walked over to Malcolm's side and gently placed a hand on his arm.  "Are you all right, Malcolm?"

            He put on a cheerful face, but she could see the pain in his eyes.  "Quite well, thank you.  And yourself?"

            "I'm—fine," she said, her voice breaking.  She took a deep breath and released it.  "What do you need me to do, Doctor?"

            Dr. Phlox smiled.  "I just need you to hold him down while I use the auto-suture.  I neglected to bring a proper anesthetic."

            Malcolm lifted his head.  He and Hoshi said in unison, "_What_?"

            Dr. Phlox held up the device.  "I'm joking.  The auto-suture is completely painless."

            "Good.  Because I don't quite think I can handle more pain at the moment."  Malcolm closed his eyes and allowed Dr. Phlox, with some assistance from Hoshi, to take care of his wounds.

            Dr. Phlox made an approving grunt.  "Well, the prognosis looks very good so far.  No permanent damage."

            Malcolm smiled ever so slightly.  "That's a relief.  I don't think I could go through life being ugly."

            After a short period of carefully mending the cuts to Malcolm's face, Dr. Phlox stepped back and started to repack his equipment.  "That should do for now.  You'll need to come to Sickbay later for further treatment."

            Malcolm sat up.  "I'll need to be on the bridge."

            Dr. Phlox stopped him.  "No need to be so hasty.  Subcommander T'Pol has ordered us to remain here until we are contacted."

            Malcolm asked, "What if something goes wrong?"

            Phlox replied, "Then you won't be better off running through the corridors practicing more heroics.  You've done your part, Lieutenant."

            Hoshi stood at the side awkwardly.  "So we're just staying here for now?"

            Malcolm sighed.  "Apparently.  Please, have a seat, Hoshi.  And doctor," he added after a moment.

            Hoshi sank into the offered chair, relieved to have a moment's relaxation.  The chair was very comfortable.

            No one spoke for some time, each of them mulling over their own thoughts.

            Hoshi couldn't stop thinking about how the room smelled.  There was some aroma, clean and fresh, she couldn't place it, that covered the room in a soft, pleasing way.  It was the scent that lightly clung to Malcolm himself, which she noticed whenever she was close enough to him.  It was attractive to her, but at the same time made her uncomfortable that she thought he smelled good.

            He hadn't smelled like that when she had just been next to him.  He smelled of blood and pain and dried sweat.  But the shirt—she rested her chin on her chest and slowly, deeply, inhaled.  Yes.  The shirt smelled like him.  For just a moment, she toyed with the idea of keeping it.  But that was ridiculous.

            "Are you all right, Hoshi?" Malcolm's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

            "Oh!  I'm fine."  Hoshi wondered how strangely she'd been acting.  They were both looking at her now.  She smiled at them self-consciously.  "So," she began, to direct their attention away from her, "what do we do now?"

            Dr. Phlox considered.  "Well, we could play a game!  As I understand, humans use various methods of entertainment."

            "Such as?" Hoshi asked, confused.

            Phlox continued.  "There's an interesting game called 'poker.'  Have you heard of it?"

            Malcolm laughed, then winced.  "Heard of it?  I play a decent hand at that.  I suppose I have a deck of cards here somewhere.  Hoshi, could you check that drawer, the third down?" he pointed.

            "Sure," she obliged, realizing that he was giving her the opportunity to view his personal belongings.

            The drawer wasn't particularly interesting.  It contained some of his military rank insignias and medals—he had a decent number, she noticed—and a few other objects of apparent sentimental value, but nothing that offered any real insight to his character.  Hoshi found, buried in the back, an unopened deck of cards.  "Bingo!" she said.  She brought them back to Malcolm's desk and pulled her chair closer.  There being no other chairs in the room, Dr. Phlox stood.

            Malcolm started dealing out five-card stud, when Hoshi interrupted.  "I may be the only one here, but I've never played poker."

            Malcolm glanced up, then over to Phlox, who smiled.  "I believe you are in the minority here, Lieutenant.  I've never played either."  Malcolm sighed and quickly went through the basic rules. [_A/N: which, in the interests of time and because I don't know a lot about poker myself, we will not tediously go through here_]

            They started a game, omitting the betting aspect because nobody had money.

            Malcolm tossed his cards down as he won with a pair of aces.  "It's not as satisfying when there are no stakes."

            "We could make up our own stakes," Hoshi suggested.

            "Like what?" Malcolm asked curiously.

            "Well, say, we bet something like…if I win this match—"

            "Hand," Malcolm corrected.

            "Hand," she said patiently, "you guys have to…I don't know, bring me breakfast for a week.  Each."

            "Bring you breakfast?" Dr. Phlox asked.

            Hoshi smiled.  "In bed.  Fresh and hot when I wake up.  I'll do it if one of you wins."

            Malcolm confidently agreed.  "I don't think it counts if I'll be stuck in Sickbay.  Mine starts after this business is over," he gestured to his face as he dealt the cards.

            Hoshi chuckled.  "I'll tell you one thing, I'm not bringing _any_one breakfast while there's still Suliban roaming around!"

            Dr. Phlox studied his cards cheerfully.  He placed two facedown.  "I'll take two."  Malcolm passed them out.

            Hoshi sighed as she looked at her cards.  "Now, what happens if I fold now?"

            Malcolm smiled at her.  "The deal's a week.  Care to raise the stakes, Doctor?  Two weeks?"

            Dr. Phlox smiled in return.  Everyone but Hoshi looked happy now.  "I believe I will do that, Lieutenant."

            "Call."

            Dr. Phlox placed his cards down.  Straight flush.  Malcolm's grin faded as he let the cards slip from his hands.  Two pair.

            "You may bring it to Sickbay, while you come for treatment.  And Hoshi can take the third week."

            Hoshi laughed at Malcolm's expression.  "I guess he picked up on it pretty fast!"

            Dr. Phlox asked, "What are the stakes for our next…hand?"

            Nobody said anything for a minute.

            Hoshi finally broke the silence.  "Well, I've contributed.  Someone else can go next."

            "There's always strip poker," Malcolm said casually, looking at Hoshi.

            "Oh, no you don't!  I've already played that game today!"

            "Well, then…" Malcolm trailed off.

            "A song!" Hoshi exclaimed.  "The losers have to sing something of the winner's choice!"

            "A song?" Malcolm asked incredulously.

            "A song?" Dr. Phlox asked in an entirely different tone of voice.

            Hoshi said, "They have music on Denobula, don't they?"

            Dr. Phlox nodded in sudden recognition.  "Ahh!  _Music_.  No."

            Malcolm grinned.  "Then you'd better hope you win."  He dealt.

            "Hmm," Dr. Phlox remarked pleasantly.

            Malcolm glanced at Hoshi, then turned his attention back to Phlox.  "Do you think the doctor is good at bluffs?"

            "Bluffs?  You neglected to mention that in the rules.  What are bluffs?" Phlox asked.

            Hoshi turned to study Phlox also.  "I don't know," she said slowly.  "Do you think the doctor is _capable_ of deception?"

            Phlox raised his eyebrows.  "Deception!  So this game is more interesting than I imagined.  And this skill is valued in this game, while discouraged in normal human relations."

            Malcolm threw down his cards.  "Well, I'm out.  I don't like the sound of your hand."

            Hoshi smiled.  "I'll try you on.  Let's see what you've got."

            Dr. Phlox revealed his hand.  He had three black cards, but that was the closest he came to anything of value.

            "Well, they say you have a cheerful disposition.  Even when you've got a lousy hand, I guess you sound happy," Hoshi said, also cheerful at her victory.

            "Damn!  Even I could have beaten that," Malcolm said.

            "Now, what should I have you sing?" Hoshi put a hand to her chin in thought.

            "All I know are pub songs," Malcolm protested.

            "Good enough."

            Malcolm hesitated.  "Well, I've got one, but—"

            "What?" Hoshi pressed.

            Malcolm vacillated.  "It's a bit, well, there's some language…"

            Hoshi released a bark of laughter that, had she been in other company at the moment, would have embarrassed her.  "I think you're forgetting that I'm a professional linguist—I know all about language!"

            Malcolm hesitated again, then started a song which would be out of key in the throat of the best singer, and didn't gain anything by coming from Malcolm's.  That, combined with what amounted to some of the raunchiest lyrics Hoshi had heard in some time, set her to laughing hysterically.  Even Phlox chuckled at a few particularly graphic moments.

            Malcolm was blushing under his temporarily scarred face as he finished, watching as Hoshi buckled over, holding her hand over her chest.  She was past the point of making any noise, but just sat there shaking, apparently unable to breathe.  Malcolm's shirt hung loosely on her comparatively slender frame.

            Malcolm and Phlox stared at her for a minute.  Then Malcolm started to laugh at her reaction.  Finally, Hoshi began to regain her composure.  "I wasn't _that_ bad, was I?" Malcolm asked, which only had the effect of sending her back into hysterics.

            Somehow Dr. Phlox's requirement to sing was forgotten as they gradually moved on to more ridiculous stakes.

            A few hands later, Malcolm threw out, "I want to see your best impression of any crewmember on board this ship."  They agreed readily enough, although Dr. Phlox didn't quite understand the request.  It was an interesting enough psychological study, regardless, observing humans under stress compensating in whatever way possible.

            It turned out he didn't need to know what impressions were, as he won.  He noticed that his presence was starting to become less important as the two humans continued in their amusement.  He stepped back with a smile. [_A/N:  He would have sat back, but he's still standing here, a fact which may not have been such a great idea after all.  But I figured officers' quarters aren't going to have a ton of chairs in them; what's the point?_]

            Hoshi immediately cried, "The captain!  You have to do the captain!"

            Malcolm took a deep breath, then released it in a snort of laughter.  "I can't keep a straight face now."  He tried to affect an authoritative stance while sitting in his chair, started to laugh again, sucked in his breath, tried again.  "You know, we're out here in space, making history with every light year!"

            Hoshi burst out laughing again [_A/N:  Okay, just how many synonyms are there for "laugh"?  I'll let you do the research and fill them in like Mad Libs_].  "That's _so_ like him!  Only without the British accent!"  For some reason, she found that incomprehensibly funny.  She laughed.  Harder.  And longer.

            Malcolm couldn't hold it up and gave in, as well.  Then he gasped, "Now you have…to do…Subcommander T'Pol!"

            "While I'm _laughing_?!" Hoshi squealed.

            They waited until they both calmed down slightly.  The only problem was, every time one of them looked at the other, he or she laughed harder which, in turn, set the other off again.  Hoshi turned to stare at the wall, willing herself to stop.  She put on the calmest, most serious face she could manage at the moment and slowly rotated her chair back to the desk.

            "That is not logical, Captain.  The Vulcan High Command would not follow that line—"  She didn't last long.

            Malcolm started up again (not that he'd really stopped) and if Dr. Phlox were not standing in the room, neither of the others would have noticed when the intercom bleeped.  Apparently, Trip (or someone) had gotten the intraship communications repaired.  That didn't take long.  Actually, even _with_ Phlox there, they didn't notice it.  Therefore, Phlox pressed the receiving button.  "Phlox here."

            "Are Lt. Reed and Ensign Sato with you?"  It was Subcommander T'Pol.  The aforementioned officers couldn't help it—at hearing the Vulcan's voice, they whooped with delight [_A/N_:  _Does that sound stupid, "whooped with delight"?  Can you picture those two "whooping" with any kind of expression?_].

            "Yes," Dr. Phlox replied simply.

            "Are they…unwell?"

            "I believe they are simply releasing tension through laughter, Subcommander."

            T'Pol didn't react in any noticeable way.  It's difficult, of course, to gauge one's reaction when they are not saying anything and you are communicating with them aurally.

            Finally, she said, "They will be needed on the bridge shortly.  Please advise them.  The Suliban are expected to leave in a few moments."  Without waiting for a response, she signed off.

            Mention of the Suliban made Hoshi and Malcolm hesitate for a moment.  Then their eyes met and they laughed again.

            Wheezing, Malcolm finally said, "Can we stop?  I think my sutures are rupturing."  He was laughing painfully now.

            "Oh!  I'm sorry!" Hoshi said, somewhat abashedly. "What's wrong with us, anyway?  I feel like I'm drunk!"

            "Must be the pub song."

            "Stress-induced narcosis," Dr. Phlox interrupted.  "You're dealing with your disturbing surroundings in a unique, but explainable way.

            The poker game long forgotten, they began to prepare themselves to return to the bridge.  Malcolm started to climb to his feet uncomfortably.  Phlox and Hoshi rushed to his side to help.  They dragged him up, Malcolm groaning in protest, and the three stood together for a minute, unsure of what came next.

            "Well," Malcolm said.  "What next?"

            Hoshi looked down.  "Oh, I should get back in uniform.  Do you think it's safe to wander the corridors alone?"

            Malcolm hesitated.  "I think I'd better go with you.  Neither of us should be caught alone by a roaming Suliban," he shrugged.  He turned back to Phlox.  "Are you coming, or…"

            "I think I'll remain here until it's safe to return to Sickbay.  I'm sure there will be other casualties to attend to."

            Hoshi took a deep breath.  "All right, then.  Let's go."

            They walked down to the turbolift, Hoshi lightly supporting Malcolm as he limped along.  "Why do we have to walk the corridors totally defenseless?" Malcolm grumbled.

            "I _had_ a phase pistol, but Commander Tucker needed it when he took over guarding the Suliban soldiers.  T'Pol must have the only one we have control over.  The Suliban either stole them or hid them," Hoshi said.

            "Let's hope they don't decide to keep them," Malcolm said grimly.

            They reached the turbolift without incident and entered, stopping off on Deck C.  Just before the doors opened, an alarming sound startled them.

            "What's that?" Hoshi asked, or rather, shouted.

            "The alarm!" Malcolm shouted back.

            The doors opened and they tumbled out, not wanting to find themselves trapped in the lift.  Three Suliban soldiers rushed toward them, beady yellow eyes glaring.  Instinctively, Hoshi clutched at Malcolm's shoulder in fear.  Malcolm tensed for an attack, fully prepared to fight back this time.

            But the Suliban soldiers kept running past them, into the turbolift.  The slowest would have missed making it in before the doors slid shut had he not narrowed his body to slip in the last crack.

            Malcolm and Hoshi watched this with astonishment.  The alarms continued to blare angrily.  Suddenly, the corridor didn't seem any safer than the turbolift.  Something was wrong with the ship.  At least they weren't trapped with the Suliban, they reasoned.

            "What does it mean?" Hoshi asked, whether about the alarms or the soldiers' hasty departure, Malcolm didn't know.  Not that it mattered.

            The answer he gave to either aspect of the question was, "Something bad."

            Since they were on Hoshi's deck, and the Suliban had taken the turbolift, they headed to Hoshi's quarters.

            "Wow," Malcolm commented as they entered.

            "What?" Hoshi asked as she rummaged in her closet for a uniform.

            "It's…small," he said, surveying the room.  "No bathroom?"

            "If they gave all the ensigns their own bathroom, there wouldn't be room for an Armory," Hoshi commented dryly, tugging a pair of coveralls out.

            "Well, what…?"

            "Turn around."

            "What?"

            "Turn around and, for good measure, close your eyes.  You're not getting two peeks in one day."  Hoshi waited, hands on hips.

            Malcolm complied, making an obvious show of how painful it was for him to do so.  "Ouch!" he said as he placed his hands over his eyes.  "I've got bruises all over my face, you know."

            Hoshi yanked off Malcolm's shirt and tossed it aside.  "Yeah, right."

            Malcolm got impatient.  "Hurry up.  We should be on the bridge."

            "All right!" Hoshi said, pulling her coveralls on without putting an undershirt or bra on.  She just knew that probably meant trouble, but she didn't have time to worry about it right them.  "Ready!" she said.

            _And the rest you know…just watch the last ten minutes of "Shockwave II."_

_            Chapter 2 coming soon…there's more to be told!_

_A/N:  Where did all this come from?  I have _no_ idea.  Tavia's "Vegas" story, random memories of card games (but I've never played with these kind of stakes).  It started out as a flashback scene from what is now chapter two, and got too long.  Then I realized there was something to tell here.  Hope you liked it!_

_Oh, for my three parody fans:  Hopefully I'll get another out this week!_


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